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"Which is…"
"None of your business."
"Why are you flinching when I say her name?"
"No idea what you're talking about."
"You do realize I was here yesterday when she stomped out the door crying?"
I shrug like I can barely recall yesterday afternoon.
"What the hell did you to do her, Dean?"
"Nothing."
"Well, fix it. I like her."
"I like her too."
"SO FIX IT."
"It's not fixable." The room hums with the sound of the air-conditioning. It competes with the chill, acoustic music flowing from the speakers. I'm not sure who picked this. Only that it's all wrong. Calm, peaceful vibes are the opposite of what I need.
My head is a storm. I need angry. Angsty. Miserable.
Emma slides off her stool. She moves around the counter and places herself next to me. "What happened?"
I shrug like it doesn't matter.
"Drop the chill act, Dean. It's obviously bullshit. What happened?"
"She ended shit."
"Why?"
"She didn't say."
"No way."
I nod. "Way." My voice cracks. Thinking about this is agony. But it's not like it's going anywhere. If Chloe is gone, if that's what she wants…
Nobody changes Chloe's mind. Not about anything.
Emma places her palms on the counter. Uses them to hoist herself onto it. "She really didn't say?"
"Yeah."
She taps her toes together. "But you…" She nudges me with her shoulder. "You must know why. What you did."
Why? "Maybe."
"Your eyes lit up. You know."
"Maybe."
"Well…"
I say nothing.
